


Theory of Assumptions

by AngelSense



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-11-23 01:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11392851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelSense/pseuds/AngelSense
Summary: They all wonder about her stoic elven paramour as she shamelessly flirts around Skyhold.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A series of moments that has some of the Inner Circle thinking twice about Lavellan's tendency to tease despite her relationship with Solas and I just ran with it. Will feature the Inner Circle multiple times since Lavellan is decidedly in a mood for some reason and everyone's stepping on glass because of it.

The Commander didn’t know what to feel.

The Inquisitor was leaning on the edge, watching.

His men dutifully swung their swords. They trained down on a steep hill where it isn’t unusual for residents to watch. But he feels the heavy weight of her gaze on his back like a mark and it _burned_.

It must have been his imagination. After all they just had a meeting and surely the Inquisitor only wanted to ensure her army’s strength. Although… lately she had been acting strange.

It was implicitly clear that the elf apostate, Solas, was her romantic partner. They hadn’t even realized it until Josephine descended from the library and happened to glance at the rotunda to see the beloved Inquisitor sitting on Solas' desk, leaning suggestively close to his unseen face.

When asked, Ellana gave a mysterious smile and said, “What does it look like?”

It wasn’t true, most people decided.

She was Dalish; she sat on Dorian’s lap, rode Bull’s shoulders in a drunken stupor and was usually found sprawled, devoid of clothes, on the floor after a night of Wicked Grace. Even Vivienne couldn’t escape her clutches; the enchantress gave an amused chuckle whenever Ellana wove her arm around hers to inspect Skyhold in the high balcony like a ruling empress.

So Ellana decided to take matters into her own hands as per usual.

She strode through the main hall with purpose. On the throne she judged, quite literally and figuratively to anyone passing her line of sight, listened to reports, gave orders and was as dignified as her title demanded.

That was until Solas emerged from the rotunda and her concentration dwindled down to slip-of-the-tongue inappropriateness that was only salvaged by Josephine’s constant coughs.

“As terribly amusing – I mean, terribly despondent at your walls being smeared in goat blood, I’m afraid it can’t be undone.”

“ _You_ sent the Avvar there!”

“Yes, yes, unpleasant isn’t it,” she said distractedly. Solas had retreated to a far corner. “Josephine, deal with this god awful-” the diplomat’s coughs rose to alarming heights, “ _poor man’s_ appalling situation that arose from my goodwill.”

The ambassador gracefully handled matters while the Inquisitor all but disappeared into the crowd.

Wayward glances observed how loose her stride was, her steps entirely predatory from the sway of her slender hips. Solas didn't even glance up until she stopped before him. He inclined his head in greeting. In reply, Ellana threw herself at his lap, nearly upsetting the kettle and cup on the table. _Tea_. Ellana reached for it and drank.

His hands rose to her waist and stayed there. “Vhenan,” Solas said in dismay.

“Ugh. I told you I don’t like the Orlesian variety.”

“I will endeavor to remember it,” was the solemn reply.

“You should or you’ll be _endeavoring_ me all week.”

Right.

Cullen didn’t worry.

The sun shone elsewhere by the time Cullen gained enough courage. He glanced to make sure she was looking elsewhere and when their eyes met, her lips curved. “Again,” he barked to the soldiers and paced to the side a little quicker than he intended.

“I think they need a little rest, Commander,” Ellana called down. Then without his order, “Splendid work, boys.”

Cullen shuffled. He should return to his office.

She blocked his way back to the castle.

“Care to give me a report?”

His throat cleared. “Nothing is amiss since this morning, Inquisitor.”

“Has it been that long?” Wide-eyed innocence, he was led to believe, if not for the curl of her lips.

Before he could answer, Cullen detected a trace of paint in the air. It drew his eyes up to the only possible place it came from.

“Solas,” she greeted warmly. “I was just complimenting our dear Commander here on what fine work he’s doing.” Cullen sputtered when her eyes looked him up and down. “In fact, I _admire_ him. Training in this blasted heat and giving me his attention when I ask – he is so very dedicated.”

The Commander shifted uneasily. “I thank you, Inquisitor.”

“Just Ellana.”

The Commander kept his mouth shut. Solas had been calmly watching them but at that, the corner of his eyes tightened ever so slightly. “If you’ll excuse me…” Cullen coughed.

“You are not excused.”

Cullen froze. Solas sighed as if used to her whims. “You are troubling the Commander.”

“He wants me to trouble him.” And normally, Cullen wouldn’t deny it but it was a different matter entirely when Solas was present. "Isn't that right, Commander?"

"I await your every order," he said with a measure of dignity. It was a struggle to maintain it when the apostate looked at him so reservedly. "That is why I am -"

"My one and only Commander." She accentuated each word and the only thing that kept him alert was when Solas unfolded his hands from behind his back. 

“Inquisitor –“

“ _Ellana_.”

Caught between wanting to obey his beautiful superior and his fierce desire to live because Solas was a very powerful mage who could engulf him in flames with just a flick of his wrist – “Yes, well… forgive me,” he nearly bit his tongue holding down _Ellana_ , “I have a report to look over.”

The Commander fled.

Any onlookers would have seen the elven couple exchange looks, one filled with mischief, the other with worn vexation.

* * *

Her hips swayed as she climbed the steps.

Blackwall tried not to stare. The stairwell was wide enough to accommodate three people and Ellana was at the front and center.

The apostate’s eyes were fixed forward and not to the gentle curve of the Inquisitor’s ass. His supposed _lover’s_ ass. The ass that Sera swore the elf apostate liked to grab when they kissed, because hey, it wasn’t just an elfy thing, Sera had cackled.

Blackwall decided to look down as they ascended. There were whispers of their relationship but seeing them now… the Inquisitor did love to tease and Solas always remained indifferent. The only thing to set him off was mentioning the Fade, enslavement, and the history of elves.

A mention of the Inquisitor and his cool blue eyes would dismantle anyone on the spot. He’d make them run in circles with questions, deliver a stinging insult didn't register until he politely excused himself.

 _Of course_ the Inquisitor loved him.

And, as off-putting and strangely clinical as the apostate was, it was near impossible to dislike the Inquisitor.

She was all charm and sweet smiles enough to fool anyone.

She didn’t play fair. Didn’t exactly care if it meant getting results. He rarely fought beside her; when he did, he witnessed how she cloaked herself in invisibility then dig her daggers deep into the enemy’s back for the first strike. She even commanded the Seeker to stay back and Solas, always dragged along for every adventure, readily put a barrier. Too often only for the Inquisitor, Blackwall thought.

She was a storm in her every step. Only the unshakable walls of the castle were safe from her.

In fact Skyhold matched Ellana’s unpredictability despite its slow restoration.

Which shouldn’t surprise them when a gentle wind from the exposed walls blew up the Inquisitor’s long skirt. Blackwall ducked his head. At the corner of his eye, Solas remained unmoved.

With a hand on her skirt, she smiled over her shoulder. “Enjoying the view?”

“I wasn’t aware there was a sight to behold.”

Blackwall paled. Weren’t the rumors confirmed by the Inquisitor herself?

Ellana laughed. “You must enjoy the mountain ranges once in a while. Right, Blackwall?” He choked out a  _yes_ when she patted away imaginary dust from her bottom. “Now come, I haven’t shot intruders yet since last week.”

“Vhenan.”

“Fine, fine. Just twice this morning.”

“ _Ellana_.”

“I’m helping out the soldiers,” she fired back.

Blackwall decided he rather not be here.

“And besides, when we’re gone next week, I need to make sure Blackwall needs to know what to do.”

His expertise was lost in distance. “Inquisitor, Sera would suit this better,” Blackwall said gravely. He glanced at the mage. Why was the apostate here? “Unless you want me to scale the mountains back and forth to do it?”

“Precisely! That little cretin would let those bastards in for the chaos. I, for one, would rather not let that come to pass.”

“Then –“

“Solas here will set up wards and link you to them. It will alert you of the danger. You have the preemptive and I trust you will deal with it.”

“The Seeker –“

“I’m taking Cassandra and Dorian with me,” she said. “I’ve entrusted Bull to the front gates in case something goes wrong.”

“Inquisitor, what brought this on?”

“Oh, you know,” she said offhandedly while Solas looked positively blank of emotion. “I may or may not have sabotaged or eliminated a noble– depends on who you ask, really – while destroying their supply of red lyrium. And some Venatori agents may or may not have a problem with that. It may or may not have resulted in a rather outlandish attempt to assassinate me.”

Blackwall sighed. “I’ll do it.”

“Here, let me show you.” She took a bow and raised it to fire. As far as Blackwall knew, she was an exemplary rogue. “Hmm, downwind and – whoops.” A lopsided arrow flung itself downwards.

Blackwall panicked. There were citizens below them and –

Solas burned it in flames.

“Now _that’s_ a mage.” Ellana blew at its ashes. 

“An astute observation,” was the dry reply.

“I had good form though,” she flirted but her eyes were on him. Blackwall struggled to keep his jaw from falling. Solas was right _there_. “Or has my skill silenced you, Blackwall?”

“Never just that,” he hedged and tried not to shiver when the apostate glanced at him. “You are a model of… utmost respectability.”

She flung her snowy-white hair over a shoulder, nearly smacking Solas in the face. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”

“I do believe we are here for business,” Solas put in mildly. “Otherwise I have ancient tomes needing my attention before we set off.”

“Maybe you need something _new_ instead of those dusty books,” she sniffed. When Solas sighed, she turned her back to him and addressed Blackwall with a slightly maddening smile. “See, Blackwall? Not that hard. Just wanted to show you where the wards will be.”

She explained while Solas effortlessly cast magic without the use of a staff. Blackwall opted to lean against the stone wall, dizzy.

“… and that’s it! Questions? None? Good. You have my thanks, Blackwall.”

His throat cleared. “None shall pass, Inquisitor.”

She smiled. “Now which passageway goes to the tavern? I was sure it was one these four doors.”

Solas strode towards a hallway Blackwall presumed was the right way. “This way, vhenan.”

Blackwall stayed. A crystal glowed in his palms. The wards were in place. The only thing left was to protect Skyhold once the Inquisitor left.

He pocketed it and sighed. A very strong drink was needed. He followed after them and frowned when the door was bolted.

Why –

He heard the ruffling of clothes and Blackwall first thinks there’s a fight – after all Solas was being unkind and the Inquisitor has a temper but that thought disappeared when he hears mixed breathes, something hitting the wall followed by a feminine sigh.

Blackwall would have jumped out of the tower then and there but alas he couldn’t survive the fall, and settled for sprinting the other way.

* * *

Ellana swept to the tavern while Solas remained under a tree, absorbed with a book.

“This is a rare sight,” Varric declared.

Solas didn’t answer.

“Know who’s next on her list? I’m on a deadline and well, with this castle not built for dwarf legs, I can’t exactly catch up.”

That earned a response.

“The Inquisitor is intent on familiarizing herself with the residents of Skyhold,” Solas said. “Garnering their good will is only the first step to secure their loyalty.”

Loyalty. Hmm.

Her inner circle already pledged it despite some of her rather questionable morals.

Varric was one of the few to know how agents were personally acquired for the Inquisition. A simple note in a dead templar’s pocket, which Lavellan dug through, led her to a smuggler.  He didn’t know which was funnier – their supplier was a criminal or the fact she was  _blackmailed_  by the Inquisitor.

And he witnessed firsthand when she forced a truce between the Empress, the Duke and Briala only made possible by break-ins, endless snooping and, of course, blackmail.

Later she had snickered about it with Dorian in the library.

“You sure do have tolerance, Chuckles.”

Solas did not look up. “It is necessary.”

"I gotta say, I was wondering why you had servants bringing in tea. Don't you hate the stuff?"

"I wasn't aware you were interested in my drinking habits, Master Tethras."

"Only the Inquisitor's," Varric replied. "And just between us, about three crates of alcohol was just delivered this morning."

The book snap shut and Solas stood. “I fail to see how that is relevant.”

"That's right," he said. "I forgot you don't drink. My bad, Chuckles."

The dwarf made his way back to the castle and waited before looking over his shoulder. Varric watched with amusement as the elf apostate fade-stepped into the tavern.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people figure out why Lavellan's flirting so outrageously

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't really shake off Lavellan targeting certain people because it just works.

The Dalish must be fond of alcohol. The Inquisitor matched his intake and still drank more.

“Do Qunari use beds?” she asked.

“Depends on the partner. Is it true elves prance under the moon naked?”

She gave Bull a meaningful look. “Depends on your definition of prancing. Would you?”

“Only if it’s with a redhead.”

“I’m telling Dorian that.”

They drank.

“When was the last time you got any?” Bull asked.

She laughed, a burst of melodic notes ruined by hiccups. “I’m sure not as recent as you.”

They drank some more.

“Ever had sex in public places?”

“Occasionally. You?”

She smiled. “Naturally.”

Their cups were refilled.

“Does Dorian use magic in bed?”

“What?”

A giggle escaped her and she emptied another cup. Her fingers deftly unbuttoned her jacket and tossed it somewhere next to her.

Bull was starting to see the signs of trouble.

A great number of bottles surrounded her. He tried to switch it out with a smaller glass only to pull back when a dagger neatly embedded itself on the table. “Mine,” Ellana said with a frown. “And you didn’t answer.”

“He _experiences_ magic in bed.”

“So do I,” she mumbled cheekily and lifted a free hand onto her lips to signal a secret. Bull quickly swiped the dagger that she sloppily held.

More drinks arrived.

“How does one ride the Bull?” she slurred and tried pointing at his horns only to hit Krem in the eyes.

And before Bull could answer, Solas walked in.

“Uh, boss,” Bull muttered. She was a bit _too_ animated with his arm held between her hands. “Maybe you should stop drinking.” A statement that would have earned raised brows among his crew and Ellana if they could raise their heads.

Solas didn’t even bother glancing at them. He went up the stairs, most likely to visit Cole if Sera’s disgusted grunt said anything. Bull strained to hear but his steps were entirely silent.

He leaned in close to ask, “Are you and Solas bed buddies?”

“Oh, we are,” she whispered loudly, eyes alight. “Don’t let his high and mighty self fool you. The man is very proficient with his mouth and not just for talking down to you.”

Bull chuckled. “At least he’s good for something else.”

“And the  _magic_  –“

A choked sound resounded from above. Then a disapproving, “Ellana.”

It made Bull wonder. Didn’t everyone fuck the same way? Elves  _used_  magic?

She looked up and squinted. “Is that Solas?”

“He just arrived.”

“Did he?” she exclaimed.

“You know, boss, I’m beginning to think elves aren’t the only ones in your radar.”

“You’re making me think twice,” she said coyly.

“Turbulent, crashing, a pull from the Fade–“

“Yes, that’s enough, Cole.”

Bull discreetly signaled the bartender to cut off the Inquisitor.

***

In the end it took Bull to carry the Inquisitor away in the dark only because she wouldn’t let go of his horns. An irate Solas, who held a key to her quarters, escorted them. In his hands were her discarded boots and jacket.

They moved quickly. The only movement from her was the rise and fall of her chest.

Bull wouldn’t put it past Solas to use weird magic shit to hold down her skirt from the night breeze. The apostate, just as Ellana struggled to kick off her boots, used a spell to pull all the bottles together out of her reach. And it was _entirely_ a coincidence that last bottle spilled onto Bull’s lap.

Cole followed, a series of oddities leaving his mouth that Bull preferred not to hear.

“Deep, twisting, it’s hard. She’s lightning and I need to be the ground to ferry her strikes-”

“Cole, I’d appreciate it if you’d scout ahead to see if there are any guards.”

The spirit vanished.

“So,” Bull started. “How’s it going with the boss?”

“I am certain she told you enough.”

“A wish: it’s not just him or me. Us. He hunts me, with me. Sweet talker-”

“Cole. The guards?”

“No one is there,” he said. “Solas, may I ask a question?” The elf patiently nodded. “Why does she carry this many daggers?” He held out an armful of them.

It took a long moment to answer.

Even Bull was taken back. How the hell did her willowy figure carry that many without making a sound? He was tempted to shake the Inquisitor to see how many more will fall but a dark scowl from Solas anticipated it.

“She is always prepared for an attack,” he answered eloquently.

Bull snorted. “Or maybe _someone_ pissed her off.”

Cole nodded in understanding.

* * *

Cullen made sure his door was locked.

The past weeks took a toll on him. Samson was still loose, there were new recruits to train, missions to handle and the Inquisitor – _Ellana_ – with her coy smile and easy familiarity. And there was Solas, who usually goes unnoticed when he wanted to, only to be with the Inquisitor wherever she appeared.

The ladder to his quarters tempted him to rest. But no. He had responsibilities.

He only had a few hours of undisturbed peace.

He was entirely focused on reading reports when his door opened and Ellana glided in with a, “Nice try, Commander,” before seating herself on his desk. “Back to business. I have a few concerns.”

He inched his way to the door and nudged it wide open. Just across the pathway was the door that led to the rotunda where a certain mage frequented.

“Shut that door,” she commanded. “I don’t want anyone hearing this.”

He did so very reluctantly.

“How are efforts against the Red Templars?”

Cullen dutifully answered. Her nails drummed on the wooden desk. Her legs kept crossing and uncrossing but her lips were pursed and Cullen knew it wasn’t deliberate. Still.

“…and we established a foothold in their territory. We await news from Leliana’s agent.”

“Good. That’s all I need to know.”

Cullen fiddled with the doorknob. When she leaned back on his desk, he toed it open. A quick glance showed the door to the rotunda remained shut. Relief flooded him.

A deep sigh left her lips.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“A good question.”

Cullen waited. She didn't speak.

“If you don’t me asking… are you, er, well?”

Her gaze flicked to his, flitting somewhere over his shoulder then back. “Perfectly,” she purred.

Cullen gaped.

“Don’t look so frightened, Commander. Do I look like I’m going to pounce on you?”

He was afraid to say _yes_.

“It’s too early for that. Well, not that I mind. It seems certain people mind. Do you mind, Commander?”

_Maker’s breath!_

“Oh, forgive me. I know how terribly busy you are.” She hopped off. “We'll play chess later,” she all but ordered.

“Please try to win fairly,” he croaked.

She only smiled.

As he watched her walk away, Ellana pushed the door to the rotunda open which was left ajar.

Cullen blinked. He was absolutely _certain_ –

Solas gave him an unreadable look before the Inquisitor shut the door.

* * *

Unlike his slow companions, Dorian knew that Solas and the Inquisitor were involved before Josephine gossiped. He figured out the _exact_ moment they were together. Sexually, that is.

It was during a trek in Emerald Graves.

“I wonder how a Desire demon looks like,” she mused.

“Do not.” That was Solas.

“I just thought –“

“No.”

“-it was strange I haven’t seen one yet.”

“Why so?”

Her gaze met his and the look in her eyes was decidedly not proper. “You should know.”

The tips of his pointed ears reddened. Dorian almost gagged.

But recently, he knew the Inquisitor was upset. He knew who was responsible - a certain mage who spent his time buried in books and the Fade - but doesn't know why.

Ellana was careful in her destruction.

She doesn’t rip his books nor does she splatter paint over the walls. No, she would not stoop so low as to destroy Solas’s belongings.

Instead she was petty. Dorian found it absolutely _delicious_.

She was a natural born charmer and recently amplified it to anyone looking her way. It was a wonder how Solas was present for it every time. Only he never appeared when Ellana visited which naturally affronted Dorian.

It was easy to eavesdrop on them. Ellana would casually recite a string of Elvish he couldn’t understand but it made Solas choke and for once, speechless. Dorian couldn’t care for the fiery gazes they shared, only for the way Ellana left him unfulfilled. Thank the Maker for that; even wards had a limit of privacy.

“You little minx,” he accused when she went upstairs. “Go back down and entertain me some more. It’s dreadfully boring up here.”

“I’m here now,” she declared. “Be prepared to be entertained.”

And he _was_.

They discussed philosophy and the tackiness of Orlesian fashion.

“Is body disproportion quite popular?”

“Have you seen Josephine’s shoulders,” Dorian commented.

They ventured into who had the most glorious kill.

“I shattered them in an icy coffin.”

“Yeah,” Ellana said. “Well, I killed a _dragon_.”

They gossiped and somehow veered into dangerous, personal territory.

“He looks evil,” Dorian insisted.

She gasped. “Shut the lights on Bull and he looks like a demon.”

“That's just his horns,” he snapped. “At least people _smile_ around him.”

“ _I_ smile around him.”

“You’re the only one, dear. The others only do so when the old chap uses his staff as a walking cane if we’re out too long.”

“I’ve seen you do the same thing,” she hissed.

“I’m channeling mana,” he defended.

“You’re just jealous because Solas has better control of magic.”

“And apparently not over his appearance.”

“You take that back!”

“ _Never!”_

At one point, Josephine stormed up. Ellana noticed first without telling him – _blast their superior hearing!_ – before jumping down to the rotunda. He only heard the clatter of papers, her breathless greeting then an exasperated sigh from Solas.

“You cannot do that, vhenan.”

“I just did.”

“Might I remind you that everyone within the vicinity can hear you.”

“Didn't stop you before.” Dorian could hear her blow a kiss and a defeated sigh answered it. There was a slam of the door then quietness.

Josephine gave him a stern lecture laced with thinly veiled threats only a diplomat could accomplish. Dorian rushed down, his hands itching to squeeze the delicate neck of the Herald of Andraste. “Where did the she-devil prance of to now?”

Solas stood. “Refrain from referring to the Inquisitor as that.”

“Oh hush, you prude. I know you call her dirtier things.”

The elf rounded on him so fast his knee banged against the desk. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t even deny it.”

“Ah, how like a Tevinter. Is it so amusing to contort truth?”

“I’m sure you know how that feels.”

“Nothing compared to your people’s history.”

Solas made to leave. The candles were extinguished by a wave of his hand and Dorian waited for the last possible moment.

“She doesn’t tell me anything but I should tell you that whatever you did wasn’t right. Ellana pretends not to know but I’d figure you’d be more understanding as the wiser man.”

Solas left without another word.

* * *

An unusual sight brewed near the infirmary. A certain Seeker and elf apostate sat far apart on a bench.

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness when it comes to the Inquisitor’s reputation,” Cassandra said slowly, painfully and very earnestly. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for her to shoulder so many burdens.”

Solas looked like he’d rather face an army than sit there any longer. “As are we all.”

“Yes, but Josephine informed us and… well, I just want to thank you.”

Solas didn’t reply.

“For what you’re doing,” she added at his determined silence. “To her, er, that is, I mean, for her. With her?”

His hand twitched reflexively.

“I had hoped,” she stumbled on, “she can confide in someone familiar. I’m glad to know she is not alone.”

“We all stand with her,” he gritted.

“I meant –“

“I, too, am grateful that her inner circle thinks so deeply of her.”

A rare smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I see.”

“Now if you’ll pardon me, Seeker, I have some matters to attend to.”

She rose immediately. “Of course.”

He was halfway to standing when Ellana landed down from somewhere above. She remained in a crouch to pick up her fallen daggers. “Cassandra, my Divine-to-be,” Ellana liked to say. “What on earth are you doing leaving these dummies in my way? You _know_ this is my shortcut so I don’t have to go through the castle.”

Solas quietly removed leaves caught in her hair.

“My apologies. The threat of Corypheus is more than we imagine and I wanted to be prepared. It will no longer be a problem once this is over.”

“Don’t say that,” Ellana said. “It just reminds me you’ll be leaving after.” Cassandra wondered why the mage stiffened and the Inquisitor moved away from his touch.

“I remain in your service,” she said gravely.

“Oh. Carry on then. Service me all you want,” she said. Solas pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m all for it.”

“Yes, Inquisitor,” Cassandra said. The apostate was suddenly glued to the seat he was in a hurry to vacate.

“Relay that to everyone,” Ellana continued to her elven paramour’s growing incense. “I’m totally up for grabs if anyone has a sudden need to service me.”

“A rather generous offer, Inquisitor,” Solas said, voice clipped. “Your divided attention is a gift.”

“You mean _undivided_ attention,” she replied blithely.

“As you want.”

“Oh, I want. Definitely.”

Cassandra looked between them. “Am I missing something?”

Ellana gave her a sweet smile. “No.”

She wandered off to the training yard and Cassandra deduced it was to Commander Cullen's office when she took the stairs. Solas slowly trailed on after her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan keeps pushing and few others inevitably suffer from it.

“Would you not prefer Solas’ company?”

Ellana didn’t even pause. “Of course. But you and I can be friends, I hope?”

“Friends. Yes, of course.”

The silence that followed gave him time to think. He was currently attacking her defensible setup and it was truly formidable. For once, she didn’t try to distract him.

“In another world,” she mumbled distantly. Cullen looked up. It sounded like an echo of what someone said to her. Or was she…

“Inquisitor?”

She blinked. “Have you made your move yet, Commander? You shouldn’t keep me waiting.” The undertones of it made him redden.

He shouldn’t have spoken. Ellana was back, in full-force it seemed, which meant –

Cullen glanced left and right. The apostate was supposed to be impeccable in his timing which would rescue him from having to reply to her teasing.

“Commander, I will be forced to cheat if you don’t move a pawn.”

He’d actually rather move a knight but obligingly pushed a pawn forward.

They reminisced.

“… I haven’t written to my sisters in so long.” He should remedy that. “They must be worried.” Memories assaulted him, drew him away from Skyhold, so it caught him off-guard when Ellana gently laid her hand over his.

“Do that. It will soothe their worries.”

Cullen smiled. It had been long since anyone touched him in any capacity and there was a semblance of comfort –

A surge of energy shocked him from pulling his hand away. Ellana tilted her head, unperturbed, while Cullen frowned. Static in the air? But the clouds were clear and Dorian wasn’t around.

A shuffle of gravel behind him had Cullen stiffening.

Solas approached. His hands were behind his back, his stride deceptively languid. “Commander,” he began. “Vhenan.”

This feels very familiar, Cullen thought.

“Quick, Solas, fascinate the Commander with your encounters in the Fade while I reposition my pieces.”

Cullen rubbed his temple. “Inquisitor, please.”

“What?”

Solas paced to her side. “Your honesty confounds the Commander.”

“It’s called being strategic,” she said. “Now he’ll wonder which of my pieces actually moved.”

Cullen sighed. He moved a bishop – which coincidentally, both elves called a mage – forward.

Ellana stared hard at the board. “I see what you’re planning, Commander.”

Of course she would; she was the Inquisitor, a brilliant leader. His lips curved without thought. “Is that so, Inquisitor.”

“Yes  and – whoops.” Her knee banged the table, jolting the board and pieces on it. “Oh, that’s unfortunate. Just unfortunate. We must restart, of course.”

“That’s not fair,” Cullen sputtered.

“It was an accident. Tell him, Solas.”

“It was an accident,” he intoned.

Cullen was slack-jawed.

They restarted.

“See, I’m still practicing my archery,” she said to fill the silence. “It’s difficult to shoot while they target me instead of Cassandra. So Solas set fire at their feet. They ran and I bet Dorian five silvers I could take them down.”

Cullen didn’t know what to make of that. “And?”

“Well, I didn’t specify _how_ I was going to kill them.” Cullen only gulped when she tossed a dagger into the air.

“Quite excessively, vhenan.”

“They dodged _all_ my arrows.”

Cullen moved his queen. She mimicked it.

Thankfully she didn’t attempt to cheat. Solas would gently guide her fingers to the board when she chattered endlessly. And when she stared thoughtfully, Solas moved the pieces for her after a shared look.

Cullen supposed it was only fair. After all, a wandering elf apostate wouldn’t have anyone to play against.

He’d nearly forgotten about it when he took her tower. “You are only attacking with a bishop and pawns, Inquisitor. Do you still anticipate victory?”

“This mage is all I need.”

Solas turned to the side and Cullen pretended not to see the pained look crossing his eyes.

He advanced towards her king while she kept moving her pawns forward until – “Checkmate,” Ellana said.

Cullen blinked. Even Solas considered it before sending the Inquisitor an unreadable look. “Your mistake, Commander,” she said matter-of-factly, “was that I needed a powerful army. Nonsense. It only takes a few well-placed pieces before you could even notice.”

Solas’ gaze went hooded, an unmistakable sign of interest. Cullen shifted uncomfortably. The Inquisitor had noticed and she reclined back.

“Join us for a night of Wicked Grace.”

Both elves looked at him.

Cullen regretted nothing. It at least broke the hold over them even if this was the man who Blackwall swore obliterated him in Diamondback.

“Perhaps I will soon.”

Of course he would, Cullen thought.

The last two games they returned a sleeping Inquisitor without clothes except her smalls. They had to pass the rotunda and the way Solas’ face darkened brought back nightmares. _Literal_ nightmares when he slept.

“Splendid match, Commander,” Ellana said as Solas pulled her chair back.

“You as well, Inquisitor.”

Just before the elves rounded the corner, the Inquisitor shouted, “Commander!” He turned around. “Remember, it’s _Ellana_.”

On the way to his office Cullen was in particularly high spirits. When he reached for the knob, it shocked him.

“Maker’s breath, _how?”_

* * *

The main hall bustled; hushed whispers of nobles, servants hurrying this way and that. Some companions, as Solas did, preferred to dine there. Vivienne draped herself on a high chair. "Sit, Inquisitor."

“Too stiff,” Ellana said, rapping her knuckle on the wood. “It needs velvet cushions.”

“My dear, it will simply look brutish.”

“My ass has more priority than décor.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Varric hollered from below.

Vivienne ignored it. “Stand if you want, dear. I have some matters for your attention.”

“Do I get to wear a dress and fight?”

“I am quite certain those two conditions will be fulfilled one way or the other.”

Ellana walked to the railing and peered down the main hall. “Talk to me, Vivienne.”

“I have acquaintances that are eager to meet you. You impressed them by siding with the rebel mages, but you must understand their caution.”

“They’re too stiff for my liking,” she repeated.

“Darling, aren’t you currently smooching one?” Ellana just winked. “If you would just consider their offer so they’ll stop hounding me with letters.”

“I can tell you right now I’m too busy.”

“With a certain Game you mean?” the enchantress drawled.

“I am the _Inquisitor_.”

But Vivienne caught the darkening of her thoughts when her eyes strayed down to something. _Someone_. “I understand, my dear. I am just astonished you did not even consider players from the outside. Helping you with your duties, of course.”

“Of course. And I did. It’s just a matter of timing.”

Something like a cup broke. “I’m sorry,” a girlish voice said in horror. “Master Solas, let me get you another –“

“It is fine,” came the flat answer.

“Might I introduce you to someone who will positively fascinate you?”

She turned around with a look Vivienne was intimately familiar with at court. “Is he a scholar and utterly captivated with magic? Tell me he’s an elf as well, Vivienne.”

“My dear, you only need to say.”

Varric’s surprised shout echoed before she could answer. “ _Fire!_ ”

“No thanks,” Ellana said with a smile while panic ensued downstairs.

* * *

Blackwall was on an errand. Josephine sweetly asked and, a fool in love, he did. He steered clear of the main hall; it was the last sighting of the Inquisitor and Solas with aggression in their every step.

“A fight,” a noble gossiped. “You can see it in their eyes.”

“How scandalous. Everyone can see,” her male companion replied.

Blackwall took a shortcut by the stables.

It led him to the basement where the archives were. Josephine listed the files and Blackwall admired her handwriting as he reached for the knob. It was locked. He braced his weight against the door. It didn’t budge. He tried breaking the handle. It held.

It was as if a magical force kept it fortified.

Blackwall sighed. Josephine’s face came to mind. He redoubled his efforts. Something fell on the other side.

He glanced at the space beneath the door and noticed the play of shadows. Rats? Or perhaps Josephine forgot to extinguish the candle. He was walking away when he heard several books fall.

Intruders?

But there were no windows inside. The spymaster would notice if someone didn’t belong which led Blackwall to conclude it was rats. Another thought came to mind but Blackwall dismissed it; it was wrong to assume that of the Inquisitor. And hadn’t Blackwall seen them going towards the courtyard?

A bad feeling in him rose but his dedication to Josephine overrode it.

It was hard to find anyone who had the keys. When he asked Varric, the dwarf laughed. “No way I’m going there.”

“It’s nothing but an empty library.”

“Exactly.”

Blackwall returned, defeated. “I couldn’t get to the archives,” he said awkwardly.

Josephine opened a drawer. “I have a spare – oh. It seems I don’t.” Her brows furrowed. “Strange, I just had it this morning.”

He was suddenly relieved. “So you were there earlier?”

“Yes. Oh my, I’ll need to alert Leliana that my report will be late.”

“I’ll do it,” Blackwall said automatically.

He was passing through the rotunda to climb the stairs when he spotted Solas brushing dust off his sleeves. The elf looked moderately better. Blackwall wasn't sure about the cause of a certain incident in the main hall though whispers said a clumsy servant spilled too much oil into a lantern. “Wards are marvelous inventions,” Ellana was heard gushing to Dorian later.

* * *

Wicked Grace was eventful as usual.

“Horrible,” Ellana declared. “You lot are horrible.” Her cheating had backfired splendidly. Clothed in nothing but her smalls, the Inquisitor was all scowls and threats.

“You just have terrible judgment,” Dorian said. “And quit trying to look at my cards. Bull looks at yours while you do.”

Cullen was starting to feel better. It wasn’t a fluke the Inquisitor won. She always made her enemies believe they were winning before she struck the final blow. Except when it came to gambling; it came down to luck and a few drinks to addle her.

He might have lost a few article of clothing but Dorian had all but taken the Inquisitor’s.

That was until Solas walked in.

The first sign anyone noticed was Blackwall’s pale face. Varric looked up. “Well, well, Chuckles. Want to help us teach the Inquisitor a lesson?” to which Dorian quipped, “Won’t be the first time.”

Ellana only smiled. “Good evening, Solas.”

Solas took one look at her and sighed. Then his gaze swept over the table and it was cold and calculated. Everyone held their cards tightly. He sat next to Ellana, who all but shoved a drunken Sera to the floor. He pointedly kept his eyes on her face. “Are you cold, vhenan?”

“No,” she said. “In my clan I used to bathe outside in winter. This is nothing.”

“Very well.”

Josephine dealt the cards.

More than once the Inquisitor leaned on the table to curse and more than one pair of eyes dropped down to her chest. It only took Solas once to clear his throat to avert their gaze.

Ellana pouted at Blackwall when he folded. “Too bad,” she said while Solas sighed again. She winked at Cullen when he refused to cave in and Solas decided to take Josephine’s slippers instead when the round ended.

One moment had everyone tensing when it was just the Inquisitor and Solas left. His matching suits beat out her two sets of serpents and songs. Solas gave her a long look which she returned with a daring smile.

He took her hair pin. Her long hair fell over her shoulders, allowing a bit of modesty.

Josephine wisely dealt without including the Inquisitor.

In the end, Bull lost his shoulder guard and flexed when Ellana teased, "Iron Bull, indeed," and Blackwall nervously glanced at how the flames of the torches licked higher than usual. Varric seemed to notice. "So I ran into this guy covered in Templar armor except he held a staff and things were prone to freeze around him,” the dwarf narrated.

It wasn’t long when Solas’ winnings started to pile up.

“Nervous, Dorian?” Ellana mocked.

“Ask me that when you have trousers on.”

Solas carefully and deliberately dismantled alliances, raised doubts and stripped them of their dignity.

“I gather everyone is feeling a bit cold,” Ellana said. “Except Solas, of course. Although I commend Josephine for taking his necklace. That thing always stabs me in the chest.”

“Just your chest?” Dorian said snidely.

In short succession, Dorian was in a similar state of undress as the Inquisitor.

Solas gathered her belongings and neatly folded them before handing it to her. She smiled and it was genuine. Ellana redressed in front of them. Their eyes turned away because Solas didn’t watch except Dorian who made an impressed sound. “How did you get that scar on your shoulder?”

“A persistent Grey Warden.”

“I’m sure you made him pay dearly.”

Across the table Blackwall shook his head and pointed at Solas.

“Spectacular game,” Ellana said. “We should do this again.” Solas stood when she did and curiously, so did the Commander. They gave him a weird look. He did a clumsy salute which Ellana didn’t notice but Solas definitely did.

"Ouch!" Cullen said, holding his hand. "Maker's breath, what is happening?"

The Inquisitor drew their attention with an announcement. “Cassandra, Dorian, pack your things. I have business at Emprise de Lion.” No one batted an eye; Solas always accompanied her wherever she went. So when she added, “Oh and Bull, too,” everyone froze. Even Solas.

“Sure thing, boss,” Bull answered.

Only Dorian had the bravery to ask. “Not bringing the old chap then?”

“Evidently, you weren’t listening.”

“Dorian is no healer,” Solas said in a remarkably civil tone. “You have a tendency to bleed profusely after a long battle.”

Ellana raised a brow. “That just tells me you casting barriers does not do much.”

“I do not recall a time when you were ever knocked down.”

“Then he’ll learn a new spell.” Dorian groaned. “I’m reclaiming Suledin Keep. It’ll be quick and bloody; I need hard hitters.”

“Do you not remember how he set ablaze an entire group of bandits?” Blackwall wondered.

“Yes but that place is full of snow. It’ll be a hazard," she said. Solas’ jaw tightened. Ellana coolly returned it with crossed arms.

“Or you can have two mages cast an area-wide spell to clear them out faster,” Dorian suggested because he absolutely loathed having to keep track of a disappearing and risk-taking Inquisitor in the battlefield.

“The last time two mages cast a spell at a giant, it nearly trampled me,” Ellana snapped. “And I saw at least three in that Keep.”

“That happened _once_.”

“Once was enough. I expect everyone to be ready in three days. If you’ll excuse me, the night was long and I need some rest.” Dorian snorted when Solas followed her out of the door.


End file.
